


Deja Brew: The Most Dangerous Coffee Shop In Town

by PurpleMango



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Asgardians are a rival mafia, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Dancer Natasha Romanov, F/M, Howling Commandos mafia, M/M, Natasha Romanov Cooks, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Loki (Marvel), Veterans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-03 16:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16329542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleMango/pseuds/PurpleMango
Summary: Natasha stopped working for unnamed governments long ago because she wasn't able to live with herself.She found dancing, made a life for herself as a normal civilian.But after a traumatic accident, a mistake, she's forced to find somewhere to lick her wounds.Good thing her old military friend owns a small coffee shop.No one will bother her now...So who're the guys in the back booth?And when did Mob Bosses get involved?





	1. Riding A Wave of Self-Loathing and Sleep-Deprivation

Natasha got out of the taxi, the man getting her suitcase out of the back and setting it next to her on the curb. She handed him a wad of cash, looking up at the coffee shop. 

_ ‘Deja Brew’ _

She snorted at the name as she unlocked the door with the key she’d had for a while, rolling her suitcase into the coffee shop and heading for the back staircase. She got to the bottom, and was frowning at the stairs when a loud cheer echoed across the small space. 

“Tasha! You’re here! You should have called!”

Natasha turned, lips turning up when she saw her best friend. “Hey Barton. Long time no see.”

The man with the messy blonde hair (that was longer than the buzz cut he’d had as a Marine) smiled, before raising an eyebrow at the boot her leg was in, the sling on her arm. “What happened here?”

“Nothing too big. Took a fall thanks to an  _ incompetent  _ partner. The boss lady told me that I have to take the rest of this season off. Probably next season too.”

Clint frowned. “Well I have an extra room, but you’ll have to work a few days here and there. I’m a little short staffed... How long before you’re healed up?”

Natasha shrugged. “Few days? I’ve been resting for a while.”

“How long did the doctor say?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Doctors are assholes.”

Clint just rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath and passing by her to get to her suitcase. “You’re not working until you can do your warm ups and not have any pain!”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at the man’s back, sticking her tongue out.

 

Natasha used the days in bed to read a few books, catch up on her TV series. 

But by the third day she was going crazy.

She called one of the few numbers in her phone, waiting for the woman to answer.

There was a click. 

“Natasha. Why are you calling me?”

Natasha grimaced. Maria Hill, the head of The New York City Ballet, wasn’t very nice when mad. “Just calling… How’s the replacement search going?”

Hill practically growled. “ _ Fine _ . Because of that incompetent  _ fool  _ we lost not only our lead dancer, but we have to find someone to fill her spot!”

“Awww… I knew you miss me.”

“You’re okay at dancing unlike these other fools. Tell me when you’re fully healed and ready to come back.” 

Then the line went dead.

Natasha closed her eyes for a long moment, before pulling herself up and taking off the boot and the sling. She’d waited longer than the doctor suggested. 

She could do it.

Slipping on her leggings and ballet flats, she took a deep breath, counted under her breath.

1- 2- 3- 4-

She moved to do the first few movements, the pain there but dull compared to what she’d been through before. 

1- 2- 3- 4-

she felt the muscles in her leg start to freeze up, but pushed herself through it.

1- 2- 3- 4-

Moving into a jump, she froze. Her mind went to the lift that was supposed to come up. How her partner had lifted her, but his footing had been off. The lights shining in her eyes, the crowd watching as she was dropped, the snap that had echoed across the whole auditorium.

She dropped her pose, feeling like the breath had been punched out of her. 

Shedding the clothes hastily, she shrugged on soft pajamas and got back into bed, tears staining her cheeks.

 

Natasha got up early, dressing casually and wandering down the stairs. Clint was just opening, wiping down tables, his dog tags clinking under his shirt. She leaned against the stair rail, watching him for a second.

Clint went to put the rag away under the counter next to where she was standing, jolting when he finally realized she was there. “Fuck! Nat! You can’t do that to me!”

She smirked, pushing off the wall. “Sorry. Habit I guess. Dancer’s feet.”

“Yeah, well those dancer’s feet are going to kill me one day. Give me a straight up heart attack.”

The door jingled, a dark skinned man walking in with a wide smile. “You’d deserve it too, whiny baby.”

Clint glared back at the man. “I hate you too Sam.” Looking back to her, Clint smiled. “Meet the annoying fly-boy, Sam Wilson. Sam, this is Natasha Romanoff, my oldest friend.”

The man smiled, offering her a hand. “Hey there. You a Vet too?”

Natasha chuckled. “Not really. I dance.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Hey wait- You’re that one lady that Clint’s always playing you tube videos of for people! My boyfriend Steve  _ really  _ likes your videos.”

She turned on Clint, who winced. “Oh really… Playing  _ videos  _ of me?”

“I only did it every once and a while I swear that-”

Natasha looked at Sam, who grinned. “He plays them all the time. You even have a fan club around here. Some regulars that’ll  _ love  _ to see you.”

She groaned. “I’m going back to bed.”

Clint caught her arm. “But you’re all healed! And I need help! You make the best pastries I’ve ever had and I might have gotten some of the ingredients and I was hoping that I could sell them, get the word out that you're around, maybe sign a few…” He saw the look on her face, backtracking. “Come on Tasha! You said your boss won’t let you come back for a while! And you get bored. I know this!”

Natasha gave him the coldest glare she could. “I hate you and I’m staying in the kitchen.”

Clint grinned. “That’s fine! That’s more than fine!”

Rolling her eyes, she stalked into the back.

 

Kneading dough was strangely therapeutic. She found herself doing the foot stretches she always did when alone in her kitchen, picking up the dough and doing little movements as she hummed to herself.

But her footing was off, and she had to catch herself on the counter.

Sam walked in a little later to find her slamming her fist into the dough with every ounce of rage in her. 

“Hey! Hey! Whoa there!” The man caught her fist. “You look like you need a break.”

She closed her eyes, opening them when her temper had cooled. “Yeah. Might need a break.”

Sam nodded, still eyeing her. “I have a few orders to get out. Why don’t you go give two of your apple things to the two guys in the corner booth. The tall blonde one’s my boyfriend, Steve.”

Natasha frowned. “You should do that.”

Sam just smiled. “Oh no, he’ll be fine with seeing you instead. He’s a big fan, remember?”

She just shrugged. “Whatever you say.”


	2. Unnecessary Fear and Social Situations

Collecting two of the apple roses she’d made earlier, Natasha tied a white apron around her waist, hoping it looked okay with the black yoga pants and tank top. She shrugged to herself, making her way across the cafe to where two men were sitting at the corner booth.

As she got closer, the dark haired man snapped closed the big notebook he was holding, looking at her warily. 

She smiled easily, used to faking it for large crowds. “Sorry for interrupting. Sam just sent me to drop these off.” She set down the plate.

“Get into a fight?”

Natasha glanced down at her knuckles that were bruising, a light chuckle escaping her lips on its own accord. She drew back her hand. “Only with some dough. Nothing too bad.”

“Oh.” The blonde man glanced up for a second. “Well, thank yo-” His head shot up again, blue eyes boring into hers. “Name. What’s your name?”

She started to step back. “Um… I really have to-”

Sam appeared next to her, grin splitting his face. “Meet Natasha Romanoff, red-head, professional dancer, and the angriest ballerina I've ever met.”

Steve gaped at her, something akin to stars in his eyes. “You- you’re her!”

The other man snorted. “I think you broke Steve, Wilson.” He held out a hand to her. “Name’s Tony Stark, the best accountant you’ll ever meet.”

Natasha shook the man’s hand, before looking to where Clint was smirking at her. “I- I really have to go. Clint needs me.”  She hurried away from the table, back to where her friend was.  “I hate you and your friends and- I’m not good with new people. You know that!”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Just pretend you’re in a really long performance. And this time you have lines, but the lines can be anything. You can do anything and i’ll be here to catch you if you need.”

Sucking in a breath and blowing it out, she shook her head. “I can shoot a man from 3,500 meters without a thought. I can dance for hours straight without breaking a sweat. But you put me in a social situation and I will _shoot_ _ you _ .”

Clint’s laugh was enough for her to kick him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him as he fell on his ass, before she stormed into the back.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.”

She went back to kneading her dough, as she listened to Clint explain to the people around him that it was his own damn fault for upsetting her.

 

By the next week Natasha  had gotten into a schedule. 

She’d make pasties and small treats in the back, reluctantly going out once in a while to deliver things for Sam if he was too busy. Luckily no one mentioned dancing to her again, even if she caught a few people staring at her, and she was able to make polite conversation. 

Her favorite patron soon came to be the kind-faced man that came in every other day, with thick glasses and large books. Being as he was interesting and very gentlemanly, she would usually take her breaks at his table, talking about whatever came up. He was a scientist and their conversations were always pleasant.

There were two twins that she’d also taken a liking to, both college students. The girl, Wanda, was an aspiring dancer who was studying psychology, the boy a track star with a taste for writing. They were both wonderfully delightful to talk to, even if Wanda did have to learn not to talk about dancing around her.

 

It was a week later when Clint was opening, that he got a text, phone chiming. Looking down at his phone, the man sighed. “Tasha... You know i’d never ask if I didn’t need it… but today’s one of the busiest days of the week and Sam just called in sick.”

Natasha eyed him. “No. No way.”

“We have enough pastries. I just need someone to run out orders, help people with simple questions, maybe wipe down a few tables.”

“Nope.”

“Tasha….” The man’s voice was more like a whine now. “Please? Pretty please?”

Huffing out a reluctant sigh, she frowned at him. “Fine i’ll do it, but you owe me the weekend off.”

“Fine, whatever. Just do this for me.”

Tying an apron around her waist, she grabbed a rag, snapping it at him. “You better not expect me to wake up anytime before noon this weekend. I’ll actually end you, friend or not.”

Clint nodded quickly.

 

Natasha was fine with this so far. 

Yeah it was busy and people were staring, but she was more focused on running orders out, and she got to put in headphones when wiping tables.

She was doing just that, headphones in wiping tables, when a familiar face came into view.

Resisting the urge to punch the woman’s face in, she let herself be beckoned over to the table where Maria Hill and Phil Coulson sat in clothes that were way too fancy to fit into the environment of the small cafe. Both pretended not to notice the way that the whole coffee shop was eyeing them up, Natasha internally sighing at their inability to blend in.

Natasha pulled out her headphones. “Maria. Phil.”

The pinched lips of the woman got even more pinched. “Natasha. Sit. Sit and talk to us.”

She glanced back at Clint, who was watching them warily, and he waved his hand at her. She sat down smoothly. “Why are you here. I told you I need a break.”

“What you need, is to come back Natasha. You’re our best dancer. You’re wasting your life away here in this rundown cafe.” Hill’s tone was patronizing.

“I can’t dance.”

Phil, the sweet to Maira’s sour, frowned gently at her. “Why not? You’re more than able. You’re walking perfectly, balancing trays like they’re nothing. No shaking in your arms, no hesitation in your steps. You  _ are  _ a dancer Natasha, like it or not.”

Natasha stood, smiling thinly. “Then tell me why I can’t dance. Why my brain makes my legs shake, palms sweat. If you can do that, then you’ve solved the human mind and you can sell it to scientists for millions of dollars and you wont need me. But until then, i’m afraid you have no other choice but to find someone else.”

She watched solemnly as Phil and Maria stood, both looking disappointed, and walked to the car waiting outside. 

Only then did she let out the breath she was holding.

Clint looked at her, eyes worried. “You said they didn’t want you.”

“They don’t. Trust me. They just don’t know that.” Natasha put back in her headphones, going to finish wiping the rest of the tables.


	3. Mystery Strangers and Flirtations

It was nearing dinnertime, and Clint pulled her aside. “Hey. You see that guy over there?” She nodded, looking to where a man with longer dark hair sat across from Tony and Steve. “Make sure he gets anything he asks for. He’s an... old friend.”

Shrugging, Natasha took over two plates of sweets and three coffees, smile more genuine than fake. Steve and Tony were weird and private in their conversations, but they were both nice. Plus, if this new guy was a friend of Clint’s, how bad could he be? 

“Steve. Tony. You two grow _more_ of a sweet tooth or is the person with the black hole in their stomach the new guy?”

The man looked up at her and she almost faltered. He was menacing, like some of the men she’d met when she was working with the government, dark eyes glittering with something unreadable. 

Natasha just continued on unloading the plates from her arms, noticing how tense both Steve and Tony were. “Sheesh.  _ Now _ you two shut up? You never shut up.” She turned on the other guy. “You must be one scary son of a bitch to shut these two up.”

The man looked almost amused, a wry smile crossing his face. “And you must be Clint’s angry ballerina.”

She smiled. “I’m Natasha.”

“James.” The man looked to the pastries. “Are these really as good as Stevie says?”

“I hope so.” She chuckled. “Though I think that Steve also has a bit of a crush on me, so i’m sure that’s biased.”

Steve turned red, voice more of a whine. “Tasha…”

Stark finally grinned, though it was dimmer than usual. “Don’t let Sam hear you. He’ll fight you for Steve in an instant.”

Natasha sat in the chair next to James tiredly. “I’m not going to fight Sam. I’d prefer not to break him.”

Clint stalked over to her side, putting a hand on her shoulder tightly and smiling thinly at James. “I’m really sorry for this. Natasha’s new around here. She doesn’t-”

James held up a hand, and Clint stopped talking. The man’s dark eyes crinkled as he smiled. “She’s funny.”

The hand on her shoulder tightened, vice-like.

Natasha turned to Clint. “Hey. Barton... Where are you?” 

The man’s eyes didn’t stray from James. “Budapest.”

She frowned, remembering Budapest and how the man that had almost killed her had said the same exact thing about her. “Darling, we’re not in Budapest. We’re in the States... Why don't you go find Sam, make sure he's not eating all my pastries.”

Clint closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath before looking down at her. "Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty damn sure that bastard is dead and that I'm never drinking another smoothie. Ever."

Clint and Natasha held eye contact for a long moment, before the man sighed, and his hand slowly loosened. “Yeah, okay…”

Natasha kicked him in the ass as he walked away. “Idiot.” Turning back to the group, she snagged one of the raspberry tarts. “So what’s your secret?”

Tony coughed on his drink, Steve stilling. 

James’ eyes narrowed. “For what?”

She raised her hands. “Whoa there. I was talking about how you shut up Clint so fast.” The three men relaxed and she shook her head, standing up. “I don’t know what you three did, but you’re bad business if you get Clint that shook up. Call me if you need anything, but other than that, stay away from him. Hes had enough people fuck him over.”

Then she strolled away.

 

She was in the middle of wiping down a table near the corner, when Steve waved her over. Pulling out one of her earbuds, she looked at the three men. “What. You gonna stop acting all quiet and weird?”

Tony’s grin was more relaxed than she’d seen all day. “Sorry Nat. Stressful day at work. Idiots, amIright?”

Natasha ruffled the man’s hair. “There you are Tiny. Missed that easy charm.”

“Tiny?” James’ voice was covering a grin.

She grinned. “Yeah Snowflake. Have a problem with my nickname?”

“And why am I snowflake?”

“You’re cold and not many people like you. Though I always thought snow was quite beautiful. Probably just the Russian in me.” She shrugged, snagging the empty coffee pot and gathering the plates. “I’ll be back with more sweets and some tea. I think you boys have had enough caffeine.”

James watched her with a newfound interest when she returned. “You’re Russian?”

“Yup. Grew up there. I came to the US for a job, happened to stay. They liked my dancing.”

“You’re a mystery, Miss Romanoff.”

Natasha winked. “I could say the same to you, Mr. I-don't-know-your-last-name, but I honestly don't really care for mysteries. I’ve had enough of those to last several lifetimes.” After she put down the last cup of peppermint tea and scones she smiled. “Hope your day was interesting. Nice to meet you James.”

The man’s eyes glittered. “The pleasure is mine.”

 

The weekend was slow, Sam coming back in with a red nose, attitude still cheery as ever. Natasha used the weekend to lounge around in comfortable clothes, letting her hair down as she read the book she was in the middle of. 

She was in a heated discussion with Bruce (the scientist with the glasses) about stars and astronomy, when Tony, Steve, and James walked in. She didn’t even notice them until they were seated and James was waving her over.

Natasha paused. “Hey Bruce, I’m sorry about the interruption, but a few regulars just walked in. Can we take 5?”

Bruce’s eyes found the corner table, and his voice lowered. “Be careful Natasha. Those guys are trouble.”

She laughed, patting the man’s hand. “Thanks for the worry Bruce, but i’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.” Natasha picked up her book and slid into the booth side of the table next to the wall, slumping against it. “Good morning.”

Tony’s smirk was more flirtatious than usual. “Morning, you... Did you sit in sugar? Because that ass is  _ sweet _ .”

She laughed, but James glared at Tony. “Save it for Pepper, Stark.”

Natasha could swear she heard Tony’s mouth snap shut, looking at James with a smile. “You need some coffee James? You’re kinda grouchy this morning.”

Sam walked over, coffee pot in hand, along with a pie she’d made last night when she couldn’t sleep. “Hey babe. James. Tony. I see you’ve found the elusive Natasha in her natural habitat. Lazing around.”

She scowled at the man. “Be quiet Wilson. Just because you happened to be closing when I came downstairs in my underwear that one time  _ doesn’t  _ give you rights.”

“You’re the one walking around like that!”

Natasha scowled. “I wanted to make some cookies.”

Sam huffed, Steve laughing. “Should I be jealous? And if so, of who?”

“Sam. You should be jealous of Sam.” James’ response was immediate, eyes turning to her. “You bake in your underwear?”

She shrugged. “I have trouble sleeping. Plus Clint and I aren't worried about security.”

“He was a Vet, like Sam, right?”

Natasha fanned herself, batting her eyelashes. “My very own soldier. I might _swoon_.” She put a hand over her forehead, causing the guys to chuckle, and her to grin. “But yeah, we can take care of ourselves.”

Bruce waved his hand, pointing to his watch, and she winced. “I gotta go wish my friend goodbye. I’ll be right back.”


	4. Ninjas and Foot Rubs

Natasha read quietly, back against the wall, feet in James’ lap. 

Steve read a newspaper or flirted with Sam, Tony on the phone almost all day, voice as cold as ice. Sometimes the accountant would write something down, slide it to James, who would answer in short sentences, but mostly there was a sort of silence surrounding the table.

James was humming softly along to the music in the cafe when he wasn't talking to Tony in whispers, but his large hands massaged out the muscles in Natasha's legs.

When she realized she'd trying to read a paragraph for ten minutes with no avail, she set the book down, yawning. “You're going to have to stop doing that or i'm gonna turn to mush, Snowflake.”

James grinned at her, applying more pressure. “I think i'd like to see that.”

Natasha huffed. “I see how it is. Fine, but you better be warned, I might punch you in my sleep.”

The man said something to Tony, but her eyes were drifting closed.

 

A hand ran through her hair lightly every few minutes and if she could, Natasha was sure she would be purring like a cat.

When she blinked tiredly, dark eyes came into view. “Hey darling. You were pretty tired.”

Sitting up slowly, she saw the three guys were the last ones in the place, Clint and Sam putting stuff away. Pulling her book to her chest, she nodded. “Sleep’s not entirely my friend most of the time.” 

“You seemed on good terms just now.”

Natasha smiled. “Maybe you're just a trustworthy guy James.”

Tony snorted, earning himself a glare.

“Anyway, I should go see what's up with Barton.” She dragged herself up, stretching before sliding over to Clint. “Hey. You wanna fight?”

Clint's head shot up. “Wait. Really?”

She nodded. “Right here. Fight me.”

“I want to.” Clint glanced behind her. “I just don't think now’s the time. James has a… business meeting he needs to conduct.”

Natasha frowned. “Now?”

Clint’s face turned serious, like when they had gone on missions, his voice dropping into a whisper. “Natasha. You need to go upstairs and stay there. Just stay in your room for the night. No baking, no nothing until the meetings over.”

Natasha put a hand on the man's shoulder, squeezing gently. “I'll go without asking, because I know you, but if you need anything just yell.”

Natasha was halfway up the stairs when the door dinged, a man with pale skin and black hair followed by the biggest guy she'd seen in a while, a black eye-patch giving his blonde hair and kind face more of an edgy vibe. 

She frowned, but followed Clint’s judgement.

 

In just a bra and pajama pants, halfway though brushing her teeth, she heard something break. Spitting out the toothpaste, she dropped her toothbrush and raced downstairs to find Steve and the other blonde man fighting viciously with knifes.

Clint saw her first, holding out his hand like he wanted to stop her, but she wasn't going to let him. 

Flipping around, she kicked the big man into a table, blocking Steve's knife and disarming him at the same time. Then the other man was lunging at her. She twisted in his grasp, locking her thighs around his neck and throwing her weight backwards, sending him flying. Standing up, she flicked the knife to the ground and scanned the room, body tense.

“Tasha….” 

She was on edge, waiting for the next attack.

Clint's voice took on the familiar edge, the tone of a command. “Natasha, stand down.”

Natasha's  body relaxed, and she looked around the room. “That was fun.”

Clint threw a blanket at her. “Fucking ninja. I seem to recall why I don't fight you.”

Pulling the blanket around her like a cape she grinned at Clint. “You're just too scared Barton.”

“What the hell just happened... Who is she?” The man with the black hair looked around, face surprised.

James looked right at her, moving his jacket back to where it was concealing the gun in his waistband. “I'm not sure yet…”

Natasha smirked. “I just really don't want anyone to get hurt. I'd have to clean up the blood, because god knows Clint doesn't know the first thing about getting blood out of things.” She turned to the man. “Remember how you ruined my favorite sweater? I still do.”

Clint groaned. “That was years ago!”

“It was still my favorite sweater.”

“Go to bed Natasha. You're hardly dressed for polite company.”

She snorted, pulling up a chair. “From the way Steve and that other guy were trying to stab the other, none of you are considered polite. So sit down. We're gonna compromise on... whatever it is you two are fighting about.”

The room looked at each other, Steve and Tony just shrugging. James sat down reluctantly and Clint sighed, sitting at the floor by her feet. 

The other man and his muscular companion sat down after a long pause. “The name's Loki, and this is Thor.”

Natasha smiled. “Pleased to meet you. I'm Natasha Romanoff.”

“The dancer?” The man's eyebrows raised. “I thought you looked familiar.”

She sighed. “So what's the big deal. You two gents hate each other? Is this like some rich person war?”

James smiled faintly. “Lets just say that he and I don't do business. I have a bunch of businesses I own north of this cafe, he has businesses south. We've never had a problem with this, except now, because the metaphorical line crosses through this one cafe.”

Natasha raised a single eyebrow. “So?”

Loki huffed. “Clint makes the only coffee I drink.”

She saw the tips of Clint's ears turn red, pinching one. The man looked back at her, and she signed out a question to him. _‘You like him?’_

The man blushed, hands flying to his defense. _‘I do not!’_

_ ‘Your ears are red. That means-’ _

_‘I know we both know what that means!’_ Clint frowned, turning back to face the others.

Natasha snickered, ruffling the man's hair and looking at Loki. “You really like his coffee that much?”

The man looked between the two of them. “I do.”

She turned to James. “Okay. Right now i'm more on Loki's side. You, as unintentionally as it is, make Clint uncomfortable, and it _is_ his cafe. So convince me why you want to come here.”

James looked like he had swallowed a lemon, glancing to Steve. “Steve’s boyfriend works here!”

“Steve can come. I'm sure that he's not a problem. Loki, you okay with Steve being around?”

Loki nodded. “Sure.”

She looked back at James. “So?”

“Your pastries." The man blurted out, before explaining. "No other parties taste the same. You've ruined them for me.”

Natasha blinked. She wasn't expecting that.

Clint turned around grinning. _‘Natasha and James sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first comes love, then-’_

She smacked him in the back of the head. “Be quiet Barton.” 

“You're so mean to me…”

She leaned down to his ear, smirking. “Oh, so you  _ haven't _ told your admirer that you like it rough?” The man turned tomato red. She leaned back in her chair. “That's what I thought.”

“May I ask what you just said?” Loki’s tone was polite, but his eyes burned with curiosity.

Natasha smiled just as politely. “Clint can tell you later.” She turned to James. “So… You both claim to want to be here, but neither can stand the other…”

Clint leaned back his head. “Solomon?”

Natasha nodded. “Solomon.” She stood, helping up Clint. “Both of you, Loki, James, are banned from these premises. Your associates are welcome, but neither can enter while the other cannot.”

Clint smiled. “She's the negotiator. Meetings over. Please leave.”

James and Loki looked stricken, but quietly left. 

Natasha locked the door, wishing Sam goodnight, before breathing out heavily. “How long do you think they'll last?”

“They're both pretty prideful. I say two weeks.”

“Really? I was thinking more like three days.”

Clint patted her head. “You're adorable.”

_ “Die.”  _


	5. Mob Bosses and Keeping the Peace

Natasha’s week was fairly uneventful. 

Sam still came in, but Tony and Steve only stopped by to pick up pastries and chat for a few minutes, Thor dropping in to grab coffee from Clint.

The second week came and went, the only new thing the fact that random people were sitting in the corner booth and getting her hopes up. 

Sam said James was grumpy all the time, Thor saying the same thing about Loki.

Natasha had about had it when some random teenagers sat down in the booth the third week, the tied back hair making her think it was James, only to be disappointed when she was hit on by some teenager. 

She put a ‘Reserved’ sign on the table, so people wouldn't sit down.

Clint shook his head, but didn't say anything.

Sam, however, froze when he saw it and pulled out his phone to take a picture of her reading in the booth next to the sign.

 

Middle of the third week, she was sitting with Wanda and Pietro, head on the table, when the bell jingled.

“Reserved. How kind.”

“I think they've been waiting long enough don't you think?”

Her head snapped up. Loki and James were sitting across from each other, both with tense smiles on their faces.

She turned to the twins. “How do you tell your best friend that the man he likes, and also simultaneously wants to kill, just walked in?”

Pietro looked at her like she was crazy. “You know who that is, right?”

“James and Loki?”

Wanda put her head in her hands, voice barely above a whisper. “James  _ Barnes  _ is the leader of the Howling Commandos... Romanian mob. And Loki  _ Odinson  _ is the leader of the Asgardians. Head of the mob in most of the EU. They are bitter rivals and they  _ hate _ each other.”

Natasha nodded slowly. “Right. Okay the knives make more sense now… One sec.”

She bolted for the stairs, taking two at a time. 

Shoving her way into Clint' s office, she shut the doors, locking them. “Why are two  _ Mafia bosses _ sitting downstairs!”

Clint looked up. “They’re downstairs?”

Natasha glared at him. “Let me repeat! MAFIA BOSSES, Clint! Why would you not just tell me! Jesus Christ Barton! We're not that bad are we? You said medium gray! You said _medium gray_ when I last called! This is NOT **MEDIUM GRAY**!”

Clint winced. “Oops? I get my grays mixed up...”

Natasha sunk into a chair heavily. “What the actual hell Barton.”

“Loki's actually not that bad… And he keeps trouble away. Same with James, though he is a bit more scary.”

She buried her face in her hands.

“Come on Nat. It's not  _ that _ grey. You've done worse, hell you've collapsed entire  _ counties _ overnight. I think that counts as _at least_ dark grey.”

Natasha nodded slowly into her hands. “And they're careful? Not going to get caught?”

Clint's grin was wide when she looked up. “I might have gotten them a few allies in the government. Plus they have their own connections in the police and military.”

“Are we really doing this? Running a base of operations from two heads of the mob? Possibly one that wants to date you?”

Clint looked at her. “Only if we do it together. I have to have my sidekick.”

She snorted, opening the doors. “ _ You're _ the sidekick.”

 

Natasha piled up a tray of pastries. There was more than a few to choose form, as the back looked like a pastry shop instead of a cafe.  She’d been taking out her frustration and disappointment on the baking ingredients this past week or so.

Clint in turn had two pitchers of coffee in hand as they both made their way to the corner booth.

Steve and Tony both looked relieved to see them, Thor’s face brightening as well.

“Good morning Tiny, Stevie. You too, eye-patch.” She set down the plates lining her arms, Clint pouring out the cups of coffee. “You’re not gonna pull out knives again are you? Start a duel to the death? Because that’d be unfortunate for the tile.”

Loki grinned at Thor. “I like her.”

Thor made a low rumbling sound. “God help us all.”

James turned to glare at Loki. “Stay on your side. I’m not encroaching on your side, _am I Clint?_ ”

Clint and her looked at each other. Clint shook his head slowly. “Of course not...”

Natasha smiled, grabbing her friend’s arm when he was done pouring the drinks. “Excuse us. Busy day.” 

She dragged him into the back. 

“They’re gonna kill each other.”

Clint sighed. “So? What are we supposed to do about that?”

“We?” She chuckled. “No babe. You.  _ You  _ are going to find a place that Loki likes to sit  _ away  _ from the other booth. Take the day off. Sit with him. He looks like he’s about to snap.”

“Then you have to sit with James.”

Natasha tilted her head at the man. “Is this how far we’ve come, threatening each other to sit with the people they like?”

Clint shrugged. “Let me ask Wanda and Pietro if they wanna help run the place. They’re related to James somehow, so they’ll understand.”

She smiled. “Allow me. They’re friends.”

 

Natasha sunk into the seat across from Wanda and Pietro, who looked up. “Our uncle likes you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“The last person he looked at with even half the fondness he looks at you with was the only survivor in what was deemed by the police as a ‘crazed crackhead massacre’.”

Natasha glanced to the corner booth. 

Loki was talking quietly to Thor, but James looked up and smiled across the room at her. 

She smiled back, before turning back to the twins. “Clint and I are looking to stop the two of them from killing each other, however that seems to require close contact. Can you two pick up shift for today?”

The twins smiled at her. “Sure.” 

She went to the counter with them, watching as they both wrapped aprons around their waists. “Thank you so much. You two are life savers.”

Wanda caught her arm as she went to leave. “Do me a favor?”

Natasha nodded.

“Don’t get in trouble, don’t put yourself in danger, or make any unnecessary enemies. I might not know my Uncle that well, but at the look on his face, I can tell he’d burn down the city to make sure you’re okay.”

Natasha smiled. “Don’t worry about me. Clint would beat him to it.” 

That didn’t seem to appease the girl, but she let go of her arm.

 

Natasha slid on pajama shorts and a red tank top, grabbing a book off the shelf of Clint’s office and padding down the stairs. She ignored the looks cast her way, seeing that Clint had dragged Loki and Thor to a different booth two tables away and was currently resembling a cat trying to get close to a warm sunbeam, pressed close to the pale man in a way that reminded her of long winter missions.

He caught her eye from across the room, and she could tell he was thinking the same thing, a smile curving up his lips.  She paused by them, smiling and snagging Thor’s half eaten tart. “How’s it going?”

Loki’s smile was less menacing, more soft. “Very well. Thank you for convincing Clint to join us.”

She looked down at Clint, the man half asleep and looking to be on a partial contact-high. “I don’t think he needed much convincing.”

Thor tapped her arm. “As much as we like your company, Barnes is glaring at us.”

Loki’s eyes widened at the use of the last name, eyeing her like she’d go running.

Natasha looked over, seeing Steve wave at her. “Thanks. I was headed over there anyway… I hope you have a good day, Mr. Odinson.”

Ignoring the way both Loki and Thor seemed to choke on their drinks, she meandered over to the corner booth. 

“Hey fellas. Need some company?”

“Only if you stay. I’m not fond of Loki getting his _claws_ into you.” James sent a cold glare at the man in question. 

Sliding into the booth, she moved so she was in the corner, feet up on James’ legs. “He’s a strange fellow, that Mr. Odinson. But don’t worry. He’s more Clint’s type.”

All the men gaped at her.  

Natasha opened her book. “I quite like your niece and nephew though, they’re both lovely conversationalists. Wanda wants to be a dancer I hear, and Pietro a writer.” She moved her bookmark to the table, stealing a cherry danish and immersing herself into the murder mystery.

“I thought you didn’t like mysteries?”

“I don’t. They’re too easy.” Tapping the book, she smiled up at James. “If the author of the book’s good enough, I should be able to tell the suspect by halfway through the book. I’m trying to figure out all the mysteries in Clint’s office, leaving little sticky notes of the murderer's name on the page I find out. It’s a game we play. I read until I think I know and he has to read the whole book, try to prove me wrong.”

The table stared at her, Tony chuckling. “A mystery wrapped in a puzzle box… Who are you, Natasha Romanoff?”

She shrugged. “The angriest ballerina you’ll ever meet.”

Steve nodded at that. “That move last night, when you flipped Thor, where'd you learn that?”

“I grew up in Russia. We know things.” 

She went back to her book, and soon enough James’ hands were on her legs, kneading out the muscle as if she was one of her pastries.


End file.
